Facets of the Same Crystal
by Sailor Coruscant
Summary: Opal is an assassin, with a mission of great importance to complete. The Gungan must die!
1. I - Pressure Building Underwater

Author's notes: This series does contain many variations on the theme of Jar Jar dying a horrible death. I know he did good stuff in Attack of the Clones, but he was still bloody annoying in Episode I and deserved to die. So anyway, if you like him, find a different series. 

**Facets of the Same Crystal**  
I - Building Pressure Underwater

I woke up that morning, knowing things were about to change on me.   
My real name is Opal, and that is what they used to know me by on Domus Prime, my homeworld. In fact, there is still a student named Opal listed as enrolled at the Domus Prime Foundation for Higher Learning, but it has been a long time since she attended classes, preferring to study by correspondence now that she has been given the chance to travel and see the Galaxy.   
Now, I have as many names as faces, and although I serve the Queen still, not many people know about it. Just me, my teacher, and the Grand Admiral and Queen, well, they know when we can get around to reporting to them. But usually, we just work from somewhat vague orders, gathering information and occasionally influencing events.   
All this was all well and good for us, I was learning a lot of new skills and things in the Galaxy did not really need much interference from us. Peace is all very well and good, but it does leave people in my line of work without much to do.   
Which was why I was somewhat glad (though I felt guilty about it), when word reached us of the Grand Admiral's latest crusade.   
For some reason, the message we received was a hard copy scrap of flexi-plast, passed over to my teacher by a seedy-looking soldier at the bar we were visiting on Coruscant. To this day I do not how he found us, or if a million copies of that note had been handed out to a million soldiers in the hopes of someone recognising us. Not that they would have had any difficulty with that, at least, not with recognising my teacher. She is a pretty distinct character.   
In fact, you might have heard of her. Her name is Aurra Sing and she is one of the Galaxy's best bounty hunters, but these days she works for the Queen of Domus Prime on a semi-legitimate basis. What that means is, she formally works as a spy and information gatherer, and she never tells the Queen about exactly what the occasional extra charges she incurs are. As for her appearance, well, words fail me. If you ever saw my teacher, you would know what I mean. Which is why she took me on, because I blend in. After all, who would ever suspect that the sweet girl sitting in the corner reading a book about advanced mathematical subspaces was actually apprentice to an assassin? Not I, that is for certain.   
Anyway, I was talking about the message. My teacher shoved it in a pocket when she first read it, not caring how it crumbled or tore, and I could tell that she was unimpressed. Unfortunately, at the time I could not go and speak to her for fear of blowing our cover, my teacher believed that she had finally managed to track down a certain enemy of Domus Prime, and she was making sure before she made the final decision about how to deal with him.   
So I simply continued with what I was doing, which was flirting a little with the bartender and enjoying my first drink in a month. As we chatted, he gave me all the information I needed to ensure that when we caught him, my teacher's target would spend a long time in prison on Domus Prime. If of course we could be bothered transporting him. After all, my teacher's ship only really suits two, and this is Coruscant; no one would ever notice one more body lying in a gutter on ground level.   
I probably sound really cynical to you, what can I say? I have seen the worst the Galaxy has to offer, and now I find it really hard to care. A long time ago, back in the days of innocence, I was kidnapped by a Sith Lord and it was he who carved the tattoo on my back: "Child of Darkness". Because of that tattoo, I was betrayed by my friends and horribly tortured. I do not remember any of this, however, it was all wiped from my memory; by friend or foe, I cannot say. And since I do not remember, I hold no animosity towards those responsible. Yet the Child of Darkness is as much a part of me as the rest of my past, she keeps me sane in this world of criminals, thieves and murderers.   
It was two days before I next saw my teacher, and although I noticed the spot of blood on the bottom of her pants I said nothing. I had learned to ignore such things as one would ignore the tantrum of a spoiled child. It would serve no purpose to talk about such things, my ideals did not match those of my teacher with regard to murder, she could never see my side of things, believing me weak and emotional.   
She stormed into my hotel room like a thundercloud, sparks flashing in her eyes and her ponytail flashing behind her as she walked up to where I was studying and threw down a crumpled piece of flexi-plast on the table. I reached out a hand to take it, my eyes never leaving my teacher's face.   
She took a deep breath as though seeking to calm herself. Reaching into a pocket, she withdrew her card-keys and placed them on the table. "It's time you start earning your way", she said, "Take the ship. I'll meet you on DP when you're done. Try not to cause too much trouble."   
I blinked in surprise. This was a little much, coming from the woman who normally would not let me even in the cockpit of her precious ship. Maybe she had found out about my latest set of scores on the training simulators. I shrugged inwardly, whatever had happened it could only be for the best as I finally had some responsibility given to me.   
Aurra then gathered up the few things of hers I had lying around, before sweeping from the room in one of her famous dramatic gestures. I was just as suddenly aware of the silence she left in her wake, and as I looked down at the note in my hand a feeling of foreboding swept over me.   
The note was brief and to the point. It stated in no uncertain terms that the Grand Admiral in all his infinite wisdom had decided that the Galaxy would be a better place without the existence of a certain Gungan who was known as Jar-Jar Binks, and that he was willing to spend the entirety of the Domus Prime Royal Forces to achieve that goal. The writer of the message suggested that she would prefer a more peaceful resolution, before the Grand Admiral could ride out and start destroying things. And so the task fell to my teacher and I, or rather, me, since it was obvious that she wanted nothing to do with all this.   
I had heard about this Jar-Jar creature before from my teacher, and so her reluctance to deal with this was somewhat understanding. She had told me once of how much she hated her visits to Naboo, and wherever possible she avoided the place.   
Oh well, at least I was being trusted with the ship. I'd decide what to do about Jar-Jar when I got there. 

The sun shining on the face of Naboo is breathtakingly beautiful. One cannot appreciate the stories until arriving discretely on the planet and finding a quiet place to land.   
I had made the trip through hyperspace without incident, and if things went well I would be back on Domus Prime in less than two days.   
The only difficulty I could foresee, aside from not being able to kill him, was finding Jar-Jar. I had read up on the Gungans on the way to Naboo, and according to all sources they were a reclusive bunch, more suited to hiding in their underwater cities than in being sociable and easy targets.   
Still, I made a few calls to some of my teacher's friends, and it was they who told me that General Binks was going to be visiting the capital, Theed, for a few days this week as part of his role as ambassador to the Naboo. So I grabbed my teacher's bike from the small bay at the back of the ship, and set out to investigate Theed. 

My first sight of Jar-Jar Binks led me to believe that he was a tall frog-like creature, with a horse-shaped face and obscene floppy ears that did not serve any obvious biological purpose. In fact, I have studied biology a little, and looking at the Gungans I had no idea how or why they had evolved that way. Their genetic makeup was absurd in the utmost; it made no sense whatsoever. Well, that is not true. It did make them easily recognisable.   
General Jar-Jar was walking through the streets when I first encountered him, he was wearing a jacket of some sort that seemed to be a part of a uniform, and ugly tight pants that just looked wrong. Some people can wear clothes like that and get away with it, but he was not one of them. For a moment I considered arresting him in the name of the fashion police, but figured I would need at least one more outfit's worth of evidence before we could convict him. I sighed and turned back to the market to finish my bargain.   
We were just about done settling the price when suddenly the piece of silk in question was yanked away by an unseen tongue. I looked up sharply, to see Jar-Jar fingering the remnant thoughtfully, unaware of the trouble he would cause here in Theed by disrupting a bargain. His bodyguards had moved in closer though, they knew that there could very easily be a fight in the next few seconds.   
"Could yousa make a dress for mesa friends insa Castle?" Jar-Jar asked, holding up the silk before the merchant. My hand was already on the blaster I had insisted upon wearing, and I surprised myself by clenching my fingers around the trigger upon his beginning to speak in that accent.   
"What do you think you are doing, stupid?" I demanded angrily, spinning around to face him. Even though the Gungan was two feet taller than I, he took a step back as though frightened. "I was going to buy that silk before you put your dirty mitts on it."   
"Mesa berry sorry", he said, bowing slightly, "But it wasna mesa hands, itsa was mesa tongue, and I didna know yousa was bargaining."   
"So you are blind as well as stupid", I said, drawing my blaster and firing it just before his feet, missing deliberately. His two bodyguards stepped forward, one to escort Jar-Jar from the suddenly-dangerous markets, the second to try to appease my temper, which matched my hair at that moment.   
I understood in that moment what the Grand Admiral had been going through, why he would be willing to force an entire planet to go to war to remove one being from the Galaxy. After all, if I had been willing to kill him just over some silk in the market place, my irrational hatred was pretty amazing.   
I put the blaster away and stormed away from the marketplace, ditching the wig and contact lenses on the way. If anyone was searching for the redhead who had caused such an outburst they would not find her, she had disappeared as completely as the sun beneath the horizon in those last minutes of the day. 

That night I sat down to think for a time. After all, I was not really cut out to be an assassin, I hated the thought of killing people for money or politics. And from what I had seen, Jar-Jar was stupid and irritating, but he did not seem terribly harmful. Then again, his existence brought the average IQ of the Galaxy down by fifty points, so maybe knocking him off would be a good thing for us all.   
Still, to actually kill someone, that would be hard for me to bear. 

The next day I set off for the Palace with the best of intentions, seeking the Gungan with the hopes of finding an excuse not to remove him the way my teacher wanted. I wore a long gown of blue much like those favourite around Theed Palace, and my hair was a gorgeous long blonde.   
A Jedi Knight stood guard on the third floor hallway where I wanted to pass. "What are you doing here?" He asked the question lightly, but I could feel his mind probing mine like a tickling sensation in my head. I had never been Force-sensitive before, but perhaps it was an after effect of the Sith attacking me that time.   
I kept my thoughts neutral, smiling up at him. "I was just looking for the General Binks. I was supposed to have an audience with him today." Actually, I had not organised such a thing until the night before, when I had broken into the Palace's computers and rearranged the General's schedule for today.   
The Jedi raised one eyebrow, flashing gorgeous baby blue eyes at me. "Jar-Jar is currently meeting with the Queen. We've had some computer problems that meant his current discussions were put back a few hours."   
"That's too bad", I murmured politely, "Do you know if he would be able to reschedule?"   
"I don't think that will be possible", he said, shaking his head slightly so that his medium-length brown hair waved, before turning to look out of a nearby window. "Jar-Jar will be leaving the Palace tomorrow." I sighed at the inevitability of that; I really didn't want to have to chase the Gungan down to one of the hidden cities. Without looking at me, the Jedi continued, his eyes staring out the window, his voice impassive. "Jar-Jar is going home by bongo", he said, "I believe it is currently sitting down by a wharf near the entrance to the Palace. And I cannot remember the last time I heard of anyone servicing one of those things. They are the most unreliable form of transport this side of Coruscant."   
"Oh", I said, not looking at him, keeping my own voice steady as I tried to interpret his meaning, "thank you."   
Turning, I walked away from that section of the Palace, wondering at the strange undercurrents to Palace life that seemed to exist on all worlds. 

I still wonder that no one was guarding Jar-Jar's bongo.   
The electronics that operated the machine were amazingly simple, and easy enough to manipulate. No one looking at it would ever see the changes I had made unless they were an expert, and no one there seemed to care enough to want to look for them.   
Later, sitting in a hotel room that I rented care of the Domus Prime treasury, I did some research on that Jedi. Not much information was available to me, even looking where I did in some places I probably shouldn't have had access to, just a name: Obi-Wan Kenobi. I filed away that knowledge for later reference, and curled up in bed with the intent of studying in the morning. 

Early the next morning, my computer alerted me somewhat noisily to the fact that someone had left me a message. My first thought was that it must have been the Grand Admiral, after all, he is known for forgetting about time differences whenever it suits him, but in fact it was my teacher, who firstly told me off for ordering room service the previous night and secondly congratulated me on the spectacular explosion she had witnessed on the media on whatever world she was currently on.   
'Explosion?' My sleep-wracked brain tried to comprehend what was going on, and then I remembered my tinkering with the bongo the day before. I didn't think I had done enough to cause an explosion though. Turning on a viewscreen I called up what local news I could. Over and over they were showing a bongo exploding rather dramatically somewhere underwater. The footage was broken frequently to be replaced by concerned peoples talking about how it was a horrible accident and how much General Binks would be missed by all who knew him.   
Even in my half-asleep state, something didn't ring true. Because I knew what I had done to the bongo, and all that I could be blamed for would have been the power cutting out about five minutes out from Theed. What had happened didn't make sense.   
Blonde hair shining in the moonlight, I quickly walked over to the Palace, knowing without knowing how I knew that no one would even notice me in this guise. Obi-Wan Kenobi was waiting in one of the almost deserted passages, and I walked straight up to him, trying to look as distraught as those around me. "What happened?" I asked directly, not bothering with any preamble.   
"No one is able to tell for sure, and it is doubted they will ever recover the wreckage. As far as anyone can tell, it was a horrible accident." Did the man never show any emotion? He was impossible.   
"What do you think about that?"   
"The Jedi are peaceful. We would do anything in our power to prevent a war." Somehow I suspected the rules had been bent this time, just a little. As I started to turn to leave, one last question occurred to me.   
"Who was the one to make the holovids the media keep playing?"   
Obi-Wan's blue eyes twinkled with hidden merriment at my enquiry, though his voice was still empty of all tone. It seems that no one else had thought to ask that question yet. "I am not entirely sure. My personal belief is that someone tipped them off."   
"Oh", I said simply, "thank you."   
"You're welcome", he said politely, "I didn't catch your name."   
"It's Crystal", I told him, "and it was nice meeting you, Jedi Kenobi." 

So in truth, I have no doubt about the level of my involvement in the preventative action, which stopped a war and probably saved the lives of many. Jar-Jar was dead, that was all that mattered, and if my teacher and my Queen believed that I was responsible, then so be it. Far better for them to believe that I was the one who solved their problem than if they started to question whom else could have been the one who caused the explosion.   
And when I told my teacher that I was not ready for any further explorations in that field of study, she understood completely, telling me that we could defer that part of my tuition until I was better equipped emotionally to deal with it.   
For now, I would concentrate on some of the less stressful areas of my work, and smile every time I remember the hidden smirk in Obi-Wan's otherwise toneless voice. I would have to practice hard if I wanted to ever emulate that style. 


	2. II - A Flash of Light in the Sky

Author's Notes: Guess what? I've really got nothing to say for a change.

**Facets of the Same Crystal**  
II - A Flash of Light in the Sky

I woke up, knowing that a new story had begun.   
It all began on Domus Prime, with a meeting between two people, where a service was asked and paid for. I could go into the specifics, but that isn't really necessary or important, because it was only after I left Domus Prime that things started to get interesting.   
Really, this 'adventure' began on Naboo, down in Otoh Gunga, the primary underwater city of the Gungan race. That was where I realised just how important my mission was, and why I had to complete it at all costs. But I'm getting ahead of myself again.   
It was surprisingly easy to get into Otoh Gunga, for some reason. Despite the invasion of the Trade Federation security there remained rather lax. So, while out for my morning swim, I decided to see if I could find the hidden city. And because of the treaty the Gungans had formed with the Naboo, no one questioned my arrival. Apparently it's a really good tourist spot these days. Someone was kind enough to show me to a place where I could stay for a couple of nights, and I was free to roam through much of the city. They never even asked to check my bags.   
So anyway, there I was, in my own little bubble room in the little bubble hotel, and everyone around me was happy and chipper. In fact, it was more than a little sickening to watch, and I was so glad that no one asked me to participate. I would have gutted them on the spot, and that would have seriously blown my cover.   
I locked myself in my room that night, and organised my plans for the next day. I knew then that this was going to be a piece of cake. 

The next day, the lights in the bubble domes came on as they always do, as the beginning of the day was heralded by the artificial sunrise waking up the inhabitants of the city. Normally I'm not a morning person, but seeing as this was a business trip, I thought it best to get out of bed around that time. Besides, I didn't want to miss the fireworks.   
For those of you who don't know, the room known to the Gungans as the High Tower Boardroom, an unusual name for a spherical bubble, is a large transparent room at the heart of Otoh Gunga. Outside one can see fish glowing with reflected light from the city, pinpricks of starlight against a night sky. The main focal point of the room is the large circular bench when the Gungan official council meet, and directly in front of the entrance to the Boardroom is the raised platform where the leader of the Gungans sits and conducts meetings. For an event like this day's gathering, extra seating was arranged for an audience, since everyone in the city seemed to want to watch what was going on.   
I only hoped that they would get their wish and the show would definitely be worth the effort. After all, it's not every day that a hero of your country comes visiting. Anniversaries are like that. Big parties and celebrations and lots of people drinking more than is really good for them. Actually, most of the party would take place on the surface of the planet, where the humans and others were planning a big event about which I had absolutely no interest whatsoever.   
The Gungan occupying that highest seat was a squat fellow, as far removed from the slender size of the object of my attention as possible. As he spoke, Boss Nass, the nominal leader of the Gungans sprayed spittle across the room. While waiting I found myself wondering if this was the reason for the large empty space before him.   
Not that it mattered, I was really only present as an observer, and it wasn't Boss Nass I was supposed to be observing. I was there to see if what I had been told was true, not that I doubted my source, I just think that there are some things that had to be seen to be believed.   
As I waited, I found myself sighing, simply because this really was a rather boring event. The powers that be were chatting about something relatively insignificant, and the Gungans in the audience were all being incredibly polite.   
Have I ever mentioned how much I hate the Gungan accents? They all speak Basic, but they have such irritating accents that you have to ask one to repeat a statement several times before you can make any sense of it. Honestly, it would be easier on all involved if they simply spoke in some language of their own, that way we could all cart around protocol droids and have them acting as translators. Of course, most droids wouldn't much like the swim down to the city, but I am sure transportation could be arranged if one was truly desperate enough. And after a day and a night in Otoh Gunga, believe me I was desperate.   
But I am a very patient person, despite what some have said of me.   
A lull fell over the Tower Boardroom as General Jar Jar Binks of the Gungans sauntered in past the guards on the doors, who all dutifully saluted him. He moved with a strange gait, which seemed to suggest that his limbs were slightly out of proportion with the rest of his body. His floppy ears slapped against his shoulders with an irritating squelching sound which suggested that he'd just gotten back from one of his 'brisken' morning breakfasts. It makes me shudder to remember that noise.   
As Jar Jar moved around the room, I realised that for an amphibian, Jar Jar's feet seemed terribly wrong. They weren't webbed at all, and surely webbed feet would have made swimming that much easier. There was something terribly wrong about the way the Gungans had evolved, something unnatural. It was probably this fault that had made it so that they spoke with such lisps and shortened speech. Either that or they were simply as stupid as I had been lead to believe.   
Jar Jar moved to stand before the assembly, and he spoke with much deference, but also the confidence of one who knew how valuable he was to those to whom he spoke. I had heard much of this one, but his arrogance must have been a new acquisition, for none had mentioned it. I knew of the part he had played in stopping the invasion of the Trade Federation, and understood that whilst the rank of General had been undeserved, the honour of ambassador to the Naboo had been one suited to this being. He had been the one to bring the two races close enough to negotiate a truce, it was possible that he was an appropriate go-between for the Naboo and the Gungan peoples.   
And yet, as I watched him speak, saw the errant movements of his limbs, as though he was flailing, but still almost steady on his feet, I began to understand what motivated my employer. It was not purely hatred, for one could not hate completely one as pathetic as this, it was more the simple desire for the removal of a pest that constantly irritates. In small doses, one can tolerate such as he, but the constant irritation of being in his company, of having to put up with the nonsense and the constant stream of words from his oversized mouth, would be enough to drive anyone mad.   
I was seated to one side, hidden at the back of the bubble room, leaning so that I was almost touching the barrier itself. I had a fair view, fair enough anyway. Without a single conscious thought, I found myself spinning a knife in the palm of my hand, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by one who was watching, even though those closest to me saw nothing. I saw him from the corner of my eye, and resolved to monitor this one, although he had not cried out upon seeing that I carried a weapon.   
As Jar Jar reached the climax of his speech, he tripped and fell forward, so that the knife I had thrown sailed over his head, and disappeared through the barrier on the far side of the bubble. As everyone in the Tower Boardroom were watching the antics of their national hero no one noticed the flash of movement above him, partly because I had been manipulating things so that no one would notice. It is a small task to hide a knife, but I was more than a little surprised to realise that I had acted openly without thinking about it.   
Now I realise that my irritation with the General had gotten the better of me and prompted me to rash action, and because of this I had lost my favourite knife. It had been a good knife, one that had served me well before, properly balanced and undecorated. A parting gift from a former client who had been more than satisfied with my work, so much so that he worried about anyone else stealing my services away from him. I had been unimpressed at that time, almost as much as I was then at the thought of my knife drifting away towards the bottom of the ocean.   
Jar Jar gathered himself to his feet, and finished off his speech, much to the delight of all present. Afterward, I realised that I didn't even remember a word of what he had said, but it didn't really matter. A fair bit of it was simply reminding everyone of what had happened during the Battle for Naboo and talking about what the Naboo themselves were like. It wasn't important to me, so I didn't care.   
When he was done, I managed to sneak my self away from the Boardroom, in a foul mood at what I had done. As I walked out, the Gungan known as Captain Tarpels smiled at me in such a manner that I found myself wondering if all the Gungans loved their General as much as they seemed to or if there were others who found him an annoyance, though only one had seen what I intended.   
I only stayed one more night in Otoh Gunga, before removing myself to the surface of Naboo. I had heard it said that Jar Jar would be in Theed for the celebrations, and I had decided that there would be much to celebrate the following night.   
I would have followed him, and perhaps arranged an accident on the trip, but I'd heard that he was going to travel via bongo, and there were nasty stories about those who journeyed through the planet's core. And unfortunately, that meant I would have to wait until Theed to act. 

Theed is a beautiful city, all things considered. Very, antique, for want of a better word. Lots of marble and other pretty stone buildings, none more than about eight stories tall. They're all rather artsy and all, so there are lots of statues and the rest. Like to think they're sophisticated and all that, but I just don't see the point. I tend to think there are better things for governments to spend money on than arts and crafts: schools and education programs and the like. You'd think people'd learn, but anyway. The Palace is supposedly the prettiest of all the pretty places in Theed, but most Palaces start to look the same after a while. It was once again surprising how easily I got in, I was beginning to suspect that there was something more than just gross stupidity wrong on Naboo. I jumped a fence, then used a grappling gun to make it up to one of the higher storey windows which according to my blueprints lead into a rarely-used residential room.   
To improve my mood somewhat, the room was occupied. But a sprinkle of sparkle powder did the trick, the middle-aged woman went down about a second after she gasped at my appearance. I moved her into her bed, being careful to tuck her in. Usually the powder was enough to leave her sleeping until the next morning, but I really didn't want to arouse any suspicion in anyone, so I manipulated things a little and made sure that she wouldn't remember seeing me even in her dreams. The art of manipulation was also something I picked up from the Sith that time.   
I wandered through the Palace for a bit, getting my bearings and setting up base in one of the unoccupied rooms. I changed my hair and clothes appropriately, getting as dressed up as I would need to be to fit in with the people downstairs. I made good use of my knowledge of electronics to borrow a line out from the throne room, and another from the great hall, so that I would know what was going on at all times. Unfortunately, nothing was happening, so in reality I sat around feeling bored as I sharpened and re-sharpened the rest of my collection of knives.   
I'm not going to tell you all about my collection of weapons, how best to use them and what one can conceal under a ball gown. The answer is actually quite a lot, but it does make it more difficult to dance. Besides, I had planned this particular strike very carefully, and aside from my one moment of distraction, I had no doubts in my ability to make appropriate use of the bare minimum equipment.   
Night drew closer, and the number of people gathered in the great hall started to grow to the point where my one microphone feed from the Palace security system was inadequate to keep track of everyone and thing. And indeed, I was only watching for one person, who was still in deep discussion with the Queen in the throne room. I decided that it was time I make my way into position, so I finished packing my things and walked demurely from my room.   
Perhaps the most prominent feature of the great hall in Theed Palace is the staircase, designed to make the entrance of the Queen and her lackeys seem more dramatic and impressive. And indeed, the landing at the top of the stairs gives one a fantastic view of the entire room and its inhabitants, so that one can survey the scene without having to be a part of it. So it was from there that I had decided to make my entrance. Since the Queen wasn't due to arrive for another hour, I figured no one would truly object.   
After pausing a moment to ensure that I was prepared as I would ever be, I walked calmly down the carpeted stairs, taking small steps as a lady ought, one hand holding up the end of my skirt as the other lightly touched the banister. I was aware almost instantly of the eyes that fell on me, the attention I was being given a ratification of the fact that my dress was as wonderful as I had believed it to be. A lilac fantasy with a silk bow at the small of my back, the long skirt twirled wonderfully as I turned around and the dress was absolutely beautiful. I only wished that I could keep it after that night, but I knew it would not be possible.   
I had gone to great lengths to prepare my hair for the ball, tying the long black locks up in twists and curls and decorating them with ribbons. The style is a little hard to describe accurately, one just has to believe that it looked incredibly feminine and the hour spent tying it up was quite possibly the most girly hour of my life.   
So, I made my dramatic entrance, and it was much to my surprise that I recognised one of the people who were staring at me. I had expected him to be with the Queen, but perhaps his duties and profession had called him elsewhere for the afternoon. Reaching the tiled floor of the great hall, I was promptly swept into one corner by a group of vapid young men who wanted to recite poetry to me and ensure me that no other 'pinnacle of creation' could ever capture their attention as I had. So I had no chance to speak to the man on the other side of the hall who was staring at me so intently.   
If you have ever heard one young man speak to the absolute object of his desire, the joy that brightens his morning, the star that shines only for him, you've heard them all. Really. They are not the most creative of creatures, in fact, given that there is only a limited amount one can say about the weather before it gets really mundane, I would have to say that young men are among the most pathetic beings ever created. They are alright once they reach the point that they realise you have better things to do than listen to the same tired compliments, and that you can actually hold a rational discussion on philosophy, culture or the subtle art of the ninja.   
Quite frankly, I was thrilled beyond belief when the Queen arrived with her entourage of handmaidens and the guest of honour and the music started. Most of my oh-so-dedicated suitors melted away to attach themselves to the available young ladies of the court and the few remaining were quite easily ignored. I sometimes think the best skill I have developed in all these years of doing what I do is the ability to endure small talk, which is one of the most irritating things in existence. If a young man wishes to woo a young woman, he should tell her that, rather than waffling on about how the weather was a little cloudy today, but that's alright because cloudy weather means it could rain and rain is good for the crops and if a girl is able to nod in all the right places she can be completely oblivious to whatever meaningless drivel he happens to be sprouting off.   
Anyway, there was much dancing and courting and happy, happy young people enjoying themselves for a little while. At one point the Queen made a speech, praising Jar Jar Binks and he said a few words about how great he thought it was the be the centre of attention and I felt really ill after having to watch it all. Then the music kicked in again and most of those present were dancing quite happily. I on the other hand, was content to observe the social interactions, also taking care to mark my target. It wasn't too difficult; he was the only Gungan present.   
A soft voice broke through my concentration, penetrating where none of the sounds made by my suitors had. "Would you care to dance, my lady?"   
I looked up in shock, to see myself staring into the blue eyes of the Jedi Knight who had been observing me earlier. Ignoring my internal warning bells, I made myself smile as I stood. "I would be honoured, General Kenobi." My voice was a murmur, soft and demure as one would expect from a young lady honoured in such a fashion. I also made myself ignore the small sounds of protest from those who had been speaking to me.   
Jedi Kenobi took my hand gently within his, leading me out into the centre of the room, before pulling me into an appropriate position and starting to move with me in time to the music. After a moment of reassuring himself that I would not run away on him, he pulled me in closer, our embrace suddenly being a little more than what was required by the dance. Despite myself I felt my heart start to race as a flash of adrenaline coursed through me. Just one dance, I reminded myself, I can't afford to be distracted this late in the game.   
But it was so nice, just for a little while, to pretend that I was just like any of the other girls in the great hall, with no concern greater than what I would wear the following day and which of the many boys who courted me I would choose as lifemate. It's not often that I envy the life of normal people, but that night, dancing with the stunningly attractive Jedi who I feared saw right through me, for a moment I did wish that I was a bubble-headed blonde. But I wasn't, and so after that one amazing dance, where I was so close to Jedi Kenobi that I could almost hear this thoughts, we parted company, me suggesting that it was probably best for him to shower some of his attention on the butterflies that fluttered so desperately for it. He laughed, a soft sound, and we walked from the dance floor in opposite directions.   
I did not head back to my enraptured suitors, choosing instead to sneak out through a side door and head back upstairs. I had planned this route in advance, so I knew exactly where the hidden staircase was and how to get quickly back to the unattended landing at the top of the grand staircase. And in a little alcove there, more or less in plain view, was the Sharpshooter SNP-32 sniper rifle I had left behind earlier.   
I'll admit quite freely that the sniper rifle was probably overkill. A normal blaster would have served just as well, but I wanted to be sure, and sometimes when I'm nervous my aim is a little off. Not enough to miss, but enough to make the overall effect something less than the dramatic statement I wanted to make.   
Still, there was no one anywhere near the top of the staircase, and from the balcony I could be as out of sight as any sniper is ever able to be. One shot would be all I had time for; one shot would be my only chance. Not surprisingly, considering my skill and training, one shot was all I needed. Jar Jar went down like a tonne of bricks, a tonne of dead bricks in fact, and I was already far from the balcony by the time he hit the ground.   
The rifle I ditched on the way, no need to be caught with the evidence after all, but no one saw or stopped me, they were all too distracted by the messily dead Gungan lying in the middle of the floor of the great hall. Everyone had gathered around there, trying desperately to see, but there were too many people and I've never been especially tall, so I asked the handsome young man next to me to lift me up in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Jar Jar and those few who were grieving. Unfortunately I was still too far from the centre of the circle to see anything, and the volunteer guards were doing their best to break up the large number of people who were completely unable to bring the dead Gungan back to life.   
With a sigh I was deposited back on the ground, and the young man who had been assisting with my attempt to see what was going on offered to walk me back to my rooms. I declined as politely as possible, stating that I wished to see the doctor in the medical bay for something to calm my quaking stomach and wanted no one with me in case I was ill. He tried to extract some promise to meet me the following evening, but I really wasn't listening.   
Sedately, I walked back towards my rooms at the top of the Palace, decided that it was probably safest for me to stay the night before sneaking out in the morning. However, as I walked down one of the darkened corridors, a shadow suddenly stepped out in front of me. I started, disgusted with myself for doing so.   
"General Kenobi, you gave me quite a shock", I said lightly, wondering what he was doing there. He took a step towards me and I fought the urge to step back.   
"You gave me quite a shock earlier", he said with raised eyebrows, though his tone was innocent enough, "wherever did you learn to dance like that?"   
The warning bells I had heard earlier in his presence quite suddenly decided to make their presence felt. Too late, guys, I thought wryly, before deciding that maybe I could match his frankness and honesty. "I learned on Domus Prime", I heard myself say, though not without some reservations, "I had one of the best teachers in existence."   
"You dance better than anyone I have ever seen", he said, stepping forward again, "perhaps someday I should visit Domus Prime myself for a few lessons, if you'd be willing to teach me."   
I found myself looking up at his blue eyes, meeting his stare and somehow felt more powerful because of it. "Somehow I can't ever a Jedi like you learning how to dance like I was taught. It requires a certain coordination of the mind that the Jedi refuse to attempt."   
He tilted his head to one side then, looking at me curiously as if suddenly aware of how close we were standing. "What do they call you on Domus Prime?" he asked in a breathy voice.   
"Saffyre", I answered dutifully, "why do you ask?"   
He smiled somewhat wickedly. "Because it's only good manners to know the name of the woman you're about to kiss before you kiss her." Then he leaned down somewhat, one hand reaching to cup my chin and lift my head up to meet him. Our lips touched in a flash of electricity and I reached up one hand around his neck, making sure that he could not escape from my clutches until I had been rather thoroughly kissed.   
After a moment that seemed to last an eternity we broke apart, both slightly breathless, both wanting more but knowing that would be impossible. Obi-Wan took a step back, allowing me to walk past him in a denial of what had just happened. I did so slowly, turning back to look at him one last time.   
"Saffyre", he asked in a voice that sounded strangely vulnerable for a Jedi, "will I ever see you again?"   
Knowing that seeing him again was something I wanted very dearly, I forced myself to be brutally honest for the sake of both of us. "I don't think so", I said, turning my back and walking away. He let me go in silence.   
"But maybe I will see you again one day", I finished silently to myself. 


	3. III So Push the Magic Button

Author's Notes: Finally, I got around to posting Chapter Three. However, there's a slight dilemna here. I don't think anyone is reading my story. And it's such a fun one. Please do read it, and let me know what you think. I thrive on fanmail and the like.

**Facets of the Same Crystal**  
III – So Push the Magic Button

I woke up with a splitting headache.   
It wasn't terribly surprising, considering how much I had had to drink the night before, but the morning-after reality was still a bit much to deal with. Particularly the bright sunlight of Tatooine's binary stars. Gods, but my head hurt.   
I couldn't for the life of me remember why I was on that god-forsaken planet, or what exactly I had been hired to do. I had a vague feeling of foreshadowing, and for an instant the image of a Jedi flashed through my mind. But as quickly as it appeared the vision faded and died, and I shook my head to remove the last shadows of the dream. For dream it must have been, since even in my hung over state I had absolutely no idea who that particular young man was. Mores the pity, a sly part of my mind whispered, he was kinda cute.   
Oh well, I thought to myself, it didn't matter. Dreams were not important, only the reality of the job and the satisfaction of being well-paid for what I do. Though, I thought, rubbing my aching head, there were disadvantages to being well-paid. The amount of highly expensive Corellian brandy that I had been able to buy myself the previous night was definitely a disadvantage. Well, not at the time, but now I was regretting my actions the night before. Still, at least as far as I could remember, there had been no singing taking place. That would have been too embarrassing.   
I got to my feet wearily, and cautiously made my way into the bathroom, slowly going through the familiar routines of making myself ready to face the day (or what was left of it anyway). After showering and washing my real hair, I dried it slowly, deciding that I couldn't be bothered brushing it and tying it up in a bun beneath one of my wigs. For today at least the universe could see what my hair really looked like. As for my face, well, as always I painted it, just a little, enough so that no one would recognise me, but not caring enough to bother with actually changing my features.   
A tattoo painted on one cheek added an air of mystery to my appearance, carefully designed to look like a stream of blood falling from a number of places just under my left eye. Sure, it would attract attention, but I didn't really feel much like blending in. Besides, Tatooine is at the end of the universe, everyone there has something to hide and no one was able to blend in, unless of course you possessed the unlikely ability to blend in with boring desert sand. I hate Tatooine, have I said that before?   
Anyway, I sat back down on the bed a little while later, and gave up on trying to piece together the events of the night before. They were in the past now, and not worth worrying about. I live for the moment, it's easier to get by that way. Sure, it might not be truly living, but it is a life.   
I shook my head, and in the process of doing so was able to spot a half-empty bottle of brandy lying gently on the floor beside my bed. With a cry of joy I leapt for it, taking a swig as soon as I could get the damn thing open. I could feel my headache starting to lift almost immediately and was glad. The brandy burned at the back of my throat, but I could not care in the slightest.   
Finally I felt ready to deal with the next phase of my life. I tapped gently a special key combination on my wrist communicator, which sat heavily on my right wrist, whispering softly as I did so.   
"Revenge is a dish best served by me. Watch your back."   
A blip from my communicator answered me and I smiled, glad that I hadn't decided to change the pass code while enjoying my drunken revelries the night before. That had happened once before and it had nearly driven me mad trying to recall what the new phrase I had chosen was. Still, let it not be said that I don't learn from my mistakes.   
Pressing a few new keys, I managed to bring up the information about what exactly my latest assignment was. Oh yeah. I had to kill a stupid Gungan to protect the entire Galaxy from destruction. Or something like that anyway. I didn't really care much for the prophecy my employer believed in, but he was paying me well so I chose rather wisely to ignore his odd religious beliefs.   
Now, as far as I could tell, the Gungan was currently visiting a Jedi friend of his who lived on Tatooine. That was the other reason I had taken this job. My ship was in need of repairs and I had needed to fill in a few days while I waited for the guy in the shop to fix it. A lousy Toydarian by the name of Watto, in case you're ever in those parts. He did the worst job ever of repairing my ship and frankly was not worth the money he charged. If you're ever in need of assistance, avoid his shop he will swindle you out of whatever money you possess and do a terrible job on the actual work you're paying him for. I did hear a few rumours about him having a gambling addiction, but that's not my problem now, is it?   
Anyway, given the rather sensitive nature of my assignment, I thought it best to find out a little about this particular Jedi friend the Gungan was visiting. Turns out I didn't recognise the name, but that was hardly surprising. There are too many bloody Jedi by far, one day someone should do something about that. They are always interfering with my work, for one thing. Anyway, I managed to obtain a copy of the Jedi's address and headed out on my speeder bike to see what I could see about the young Anakin Skywalker.   
It turned out though, that my information had been incorrect. Sitting in a café across the road from Anakin's place and scanning it with a pair of seemingly-innocuous sunglasses, I was able to detect that the Jedi living in that house did not match up with that in the files I'd uncovered. But, it did match up with someone else: one General Kenobi, the former Master of young Anakin Skywalker. This was interesting.   
He and the Gungan were sitting at a table talking. It almost made me wish I had taken that lip-reading course my teacher had recommended for me. Almost, but not quite, or I suspected that the amount of effort I would end up spending trying to read that Gungan's lips would be massive. Still, I'd found my target, and first chance I got, I would eliminate him. That's what the job is all about, after all.   
The coffeine available in that part of the world is almost as good as the mechanics. That is to say I couldn't finish my first mug and stood up a little unsteadily afterwards, the last of my hangover fleeing from the power of this terrible drink. I decided to take a walk to clear my head, remotely instructing a droid on my speeder to keep an eye on the Jedi's place and report all movements.   
It was some time later, as I was wandering through a market bazaar, that a blimp on my wrist communicator alerted me to something going down at the Jedi's place. It was nothing major, judging by my scanners, just the Jedi going out to visit the shops or something. The Gungan had been content to stay behind. With a few tapped controls I ordered the droid to remain where it was, and I moved off to intercept this General Kenobi.   
I saw him several blocks before he noticed me; though by the way he was acting I suspected he could feel someone watching him. Actually, most humans have some ability to realise when they are being watched, but assassins and Jedi are better at it than most. They have to be; otherwise their careers are unremarkably short. Still, the Jedi knew I was there fairly quickly, which suggested that he was reasonably good at his job. Now we would just have to see how good he was.   
Sure, I admit right now that I could have just sent my droid into the house and ordered it to kill the Gungan while the Jedi was out. But what would be the fun in that? No, it had been recommended that I make this dead look natural, and I do so love a challenge.   
The Jedi's path and mine overlapped outside one of the stalls of the many fruit vendors in Mos Espa, and without breaking stride he muttered softly, "why are you after me, bounty hunter?"   
I could have given him any number of interesting and otherwise witty replies, but I decided to settle for the truth, from a certain point of view. "I've never really known a Jedi before", my voice was even, as I bent over to smell a bunch of desert flowers that reminded me of rotting meat, "are they all as cute as you?"   
He was taken aback. Good, it isn't easy to get a Jedi off-guard. I intended to keep him that way. "So, you wanna go out for a drink tonight?"   
This time he stopped walking, looking at me in shock. I tossed my deep brown hair over my shoulder, shrugging slightly as I did so. He was very attractive, I decided, and those baby blue eyes would no doubt be able to melt my heart if it wasn't so damn tough. Better be careful, I thought to myself, this one could be trouble.   
"I don't think so", he said in an offended tone, tossing his own hair in a mocking gesture. "I have better things to be doing than worrying about stalking low-lives like yourself."   
A part of me had been expecting such a rejection, but it still surprised me. Perhaps because I'd never heard such a tone of condescension and pity before. What a jerk. I didn't need his pity any more than he needed my help tying his boots in the morning. Actually, considering how rude he was, it was entirely possible that he didn't know how to tie his boots each morning.   
I was angry, and anger always provokes me to my best work. Among my other talents, I'm a pretty nifty pickpocket and thief, and as General Kenobi stomped past me to return to the house in which General Jar Jar Binks was waiting for him, I employed those skills to full effect. It would no doubt be many hours before he even noticed what I'd stolen from him.   
I set off for my hotel in high dudgeon, cursing loudly to all about how that Jedi had swindled me and was bad for business. Actually, I didn't care about how my ranting might affect his future shopping experience, I just wanted an excuse to rant and scream for a while. Not many people reject me when I make them an offer, and I was going to make that Jedi pay. I quite wisely chose to ignore that part of my brain that kept bringing up the topic of the Jedi in my dream the night before. I did not want to think about that.   
And it wasn't until after I had flopped back down on the bed with a view to sleeping off the rest of the day that I remembered I'd left my speeder with the droid back by the side of that café. Sighing, I resolved to pick it up in the morning.   
  
The next day dawned bright and clear, much like every other day on Tatooine, and room service had done their duty in bringing me what I needed to make my plan a reality. I finished packing up my present for the Gungan, tied it with a ribbon and wrote his name in big letters on the front of a tasteful card, which read, "for your personal enjoyment, from your new friend, Top-Az".   
There was no way he'd be able to resist this, and no way the Jedi would be able to stop him without displeasing his guest. I added the finishing touches, a microscopic camera and radio transmitter, paid my bills and set out to retrieve my bike.   
It was a terribly hot day outside. Gods I hate Tatooine. So bloomin' hot all day, and bloody freezing at night. There was nothing for it but to dress skimpily, wearing a new wig and a new face, along with some flowing new clothes that weighed nothing and seemed to actually keep me cooler than I'd expected.   
The walk to the Jedi's place was long and hot and I really wished that I were somewhere else, somewhere colder. In fact, a tropical planet with its humid heat would be more pleasant than this. This was hell.   
Anyway, I made it to the Jedi's place without incident, much to my own surprise. I even remembered not to drink the coffee at the café across the road. There was no time for reconnaissance, nor any need of it. My droid had been feeding me uninteresting information all night, and I would be glad to take it back with me. Plus I missed my bike.   
I rang the bell on the front door of the Jedi's place, not bothering to check over my disguise again. Anything out of place here would be noticed, I was sure of that, and the Jedi's supposedly-hidden cameras that I'd noticed the day before would be checking me and my disguise out well enough for the both of us.   
The door opened wide and I grinned welcomingly. "Hi, I have a package for a General Binks? You him?" I had raised my voice into the upper registers, making my every expression be cheerful and bubbly. The simplest movement of my hand could convey a thousand meanings, and I wanted him to be sure that I was everything I claimed to be.   
"No", said the ever-patient pain-in-the-you-know-what General Kenobi, "does he have to sign for this?"   
"Yupyup!" I gave a happy little bounce, "it's an important part of the happy ninja delivery service policy. 'All packages must be delivered in person by the happiest of happy ninjas, with a smile and a care for the joy all packages bring'."   
He rolled his eyes disparagingly, before leaning back into the house. "Jar-Jar", he called in a bored tone, "you have to come sign for this."   
After a few moments the Gungan appeared at the door and I passed over my clipboard, smiling as I did so. "Just sign there", I said, gesturing, "and this lovely looking present is all yours."   
"Oh, moi moi, mesa love presents!" The Gungan's barbaric use of basic was frightening, but we would soon be safe from it forever. I was very, very glad of that.   
He signed as I'd indicated, and I passed over the box. "Have a nice day", I called as he started to juggle the present while trying to shut the door, "and tell your friend I think he has a cute butt!"   
There was a muffled comment from outside, but I was already jauntily skipping outside and across the road to collect my bike. I did however, hear one last phrase from the Gungan as I left the soon-to-be crime scene.   
"This says mesa is to open this on mesa own. That means mesa gunna go in my room to do this, just in case this-a private."   
I stifled a girlish giggle, still in character. This was going to be good!   
  
My ship was working better than it had in a long time, and for that I was glad. It couldn't have gotten much worse, that's for sure. But still, she was mine and I hers and dammit if we weren't the fastest ship in the galaxy I don't know what was.   
And once I was a half-day away from Tatooine, I downloaded for myself the video my camera had recorded, and any related holo-news reports. It seemed that the Jedi Kenobi was being investigated following the death of a certain ambassador General Binks from Naboo. Though tragic, many commentators went so far as to suggest that the Gungan's death was a good personal thing, though traumatic for the people of Naboo. Personally, I didn't care either way, so long as my credit balance went up.   
Finally, when I thought the boredom of heading to my next job would kill me, I allowed myself the opportunity to enjoy the video my spycam had captured before self-destructing.   
  
_ Jar-Jar Binks loomed over the box, staring in shocked disbelief at what lay within. For a moment he glanced guiltily towards the bedroom door, as if to see advice from the Jedi without. But no, this was his gift and he would puzzle it out himself.   
Reverently, he took the present out of the box and examined it carefully from one end to the other. It was obvious that he hadn't seen something of its kind before, so he was cautious almost to the extreme. If the outcome hadn't been foreordained I would have been tempted to fast forward the recording in order to get to something more exciting.   
But finally, after much cautious deliberation, General Jar Jar Binks, formerly of Naboo, put the device to his eye to see better how it worked before pressing the activation switch.   
A bright blue blade of incandescent light filled the room, not to mention the Gungan's head, and as his body stiffened in shock at his sudden demise he dropped the hilt. It fell, so that the blade sliced through his already dead body, causing it to fall to the ground in two pieces.   
Nothing more was visible from the camera for a few moments, then there came a banging on the door and General Kenobi burst into the room, shock, horror and disgust flaring across his face. He stepped forward and recovered the weapon I'd stolen from him the day before, turning off the blade with a quick flick. At that pre-programmed signal, the microscopic camera dissolved itself invisibly, so that the Jedi would never even know anyone'd been watching._   
  
Grinning to myself, I turned off the monitor, suddenly feeling much better about everything. With a sudden wave of excitement at a job well-done, I found myself wondering if I'd thought to bring any of that good Corellian brandy with me when I'd packed. 


End file.
